


Scrapheap

by Sapphiresterre



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Age Difference, Beast Boy is usually 19 or older, Dark, Grant is usually 25, M/M, Mostly Kidnapping, One-Sided Relationship, Slade is Grant Wilson, Usually NSFW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphiresterre/pseuds/Sapphiresterre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mishmash of scrapped ideas for Beast Boy centric stories inspired by the Teen Titans ‘03 cartoon. The majority are unfinished. All will involve BB aged up to 19 or older and most will have one-sided BB x Slade/Grant.</p>
<p>ch. 8: Summaries Galore<br/>Example summary: – Garfield may have been cursed with green skin at a young age, but he was blessed with the ability to sing a wide range of styles. He favored slingin' rhymes and spittin' truths, especially in front of an audience with a sense of humor. Singing goes well as a side hobby...until a handsome fan introduces themself as Richard Grayson, music scout for Wilson Industries. Garfield finds himself smitten with the stranger and agrees to audition for the record label, if only to have an solid excuse to continue chatting with the cool dude. Only when he meets the Dick's creepy boss, Grant Wilson, does he have second thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Glorified Secretary

**Author's Note:**

> Grant is the son of Deathstroke, the original Slade Wilson in the comics. Some fan theories say Grant is Slade in the Teen Titans 2003 show. I'm rollin' with that theory for these stories. I'm also rolling with my oddball idea that Grant has a thing for cutie-patootie older BB.
> 
> Get ready for some wild rides.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wealthy donor to the Titans Urban Reconstruction Fund hosts a celebration in honor of the Titans. Unfortunately, he's an absolute creep of a dude and Beast Boy couldn’t wait to leave. Unfinished

He was the kind of guy Beast Boy would find at ritzy casino parties: elegant, refined, and out of his league. The man knew it, and he made sure  _everyone_ knew it too.

Ugh, Beast Boy hated him.

_What a snob,_ Beast Boy curled his lips into a frown. The jerk was some wealthy businessman from somewhere and the Titans had to entertain him while he was in Jump City. Beast Boy wasn’t entirely sure _why_ they had to do that (Nightwing might’ve explained but he didn’t bother to remember. Something about donors? He wasn’t sure.) but either way, they had to do that.

As of now, the Titans were dining in a ridiculously fancy restaurant with the smarmy faced man. For once, they were out of their uniforms in favor of suits and dresses and the nineteen-year-old couldn’t be more uncomfortable. The others at the table looked at ease but they were pretty good actors.

He swiveled his gaze from one teammate to the other before he focused on the young woman sitting next to him. Terra shifted in her seat, subtly moving towards him and away from the jerk she sat beside. Grant Wilson. The creep of the hour had an arm on the back of her chair and an unreadable smile. Beast Boy tightened his grip on his fork, resisting the urge to stab the jerk. Instead, he inhaled and focused on the conversation between the two. 

“…been needing a secretary that can double as a bodyguard should something happen.” The man said, voice smooth but flat.

Terra cleared her throat. “Mr. Wilson, I’m afraid I can’t accept your offer. I’m a–”

“Titan, which makes you a _perfect_ candidate for a place on my team.” Wilson persisted.

Beast Boy sucked in air through his nose, struggling to reign in his temper as the man leaned closer to Terra’s face. Terra could take care of herself and since he couldn’t stab Wilson’s eyes, he settled for jabbing a lettuce leaf with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. He chomped on the leaf, grumbling inwardly, when a light and small warmth touched his shoulder. He turned to the young woman only to find the jerk staring at him from behind her.

“What.” He grunted.

Wilson’s lips creeped into a smile. Terra pursed her lips as the man leaned over her to speak to Beast Boy, the arm behind her back still in place while the man’s other hand snuck across the table-cloth to grasp Beast Boy’s fork holding hand. The jerk had boxed Terra in and now had his snobby hand on his own _._ Beast Boy tried not to snarl.

“Beast Boy,” the name rolled off the man’s tongue but it felt so wrong and his hackles rose. “Perhaps _you’d_ be willing to be my assistant?”

“A glorified secretary?” He snorted, unable to withhold the attitude. “No thanks.”

Wilson cocked a brow. “Really? You’d have cable, all the games you want, and the best food in the world.”

“I already have those things.” Beast Boy countered.

Wilson smiled, expression cold. “Courtesy of me.”

He stiffened. “You’re not the only donor.”

“But I’m the main one. Without me, the Titans Urban Reconstruction Fund wouldn’t exist. And you wouldn’t have funding to build new machines or repair the old ones. You wouldn’t have the money or access to the exclusive, high-tier resources you have access to.”

Beast Boy gritted his teeth. “How about you be direct for once and say what you want?”

A small gloved hand pressed against his shoulder. He relaxed into Terra’s touch and exhaled. Wilson continued to smile, cold and dark.

“Alright. I’ll keep donating to the Titans _if_ you become my assistant.”

“And if I don’t?” He challenged.

“The Titans will be shut down.”

He swallowed. His mind whirred for an intelligent response and settled with. “That’s a dumb move.”

Wilson laughed and the monotone raised his hackles. “There are plenty of unappreciated and talented heroes looking for a chance to be in the spotlight. And I’m sure they would _gladly_ replace the current heroes of Jump City.”

Terra’s hand tightened on his arm and Beast Boy found his footing. “Do they even have any training? And if they don’t then who would teach them? Cause the Titans have experience and you can’t get that without practice in the field.”

The man quieted his laugh to study his expression. Beast Boy met the stare until Terra’s hand squeezed and he looked at her.

~oOo~


	2. Emperor and Concubine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beast Boy may have been adopted into a noble family who owned slaves, but he planned to use his status as the heir to rid the kingdom of slavery and animal cruelty. He planned to succeed…until he himself is sold into slavery to the emperor himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might wind up reworking this plot into a different story idea.
> 
> This one switches between note and fleshed out format

Each family from any rank must offer some form of patronage to the emperor’s wealth to show loyalty.

The nobility compete with each other to try and give the most stunning gift to the emperor.

But recently there has been a drought and the nobles who gained most of their wealth from farmers find that they can’t resort to an elaborate feast. So they offer some of their labour and riches.

Several nobles resort to offering more than one slave or concubine. Since many nobles can’t offer food or tools, they compete in the same style.

The Doom Patrol Family find they have to do the same – there simply isn’t enough material goods to flaunt their wealth without any real sacrifice.

Especially since there had been a recent Rebellion/Coup against the Emperor, the contest to prove loyalty is more important than usual. The Rebel Leaders had either been killed or escaped, and their followers executed in public, but there was always a chance the Rebellion had stragglers who would try to revive the movement.

Steve, the Head of the Doom Patrol Family, decides that one of their own would make for a significant contribution AND cement their loyalty to the Emperor. He announces this at a Family Dinner while sitting at the head of the long table. 

To his left is Rita and to his right is Garfield, affectionally known as Beast Boy due to his love for animals and his childhood tendency to mimic any animals he had seen. (Saw a noble with a panther and pretended to be one as he leapt out of a tree to pounce on Rita. She caught him. Was scared half outta her mind and he got the scolding of a LIFETIME but it was AWESOME and no one was hurt, so)

The Family Members argue. Being offered to the Emperor WAS considered an honor, but a servant was still a servant, no matter the status. None of them want to lose their position of authority in order to strengthen the bond with the Emperor.

After Steve shatters the wine glass in his fist and commands “sit DOWN” so silence falls, an elderly man on the other side of the table speaks.

“The best candidate to truly show his Majesty our loyalty is a clear sacrifice on our part.”

Just as another uproar begins, the elder lifts a hand. The members quiet.

“Someone who is close to the highest ranking member of our family. Someone who has status to show we will give anything to the Emperor, but in reality does not have much authority in our family as of yet.”

Beast Boy’s skin crawls as the elder turns to him. The other family members follow.

“This member is young and capable of hard work. He would make an EXCELLENT offering.”

“And who EXACTLY, are you suggesting?” Steve all but growls. 

“The Family Head’s Son.”

Murmurs of agreement and relief ripple through the crowd.

“He’s next in line!” Steve protests.

“Which is PRECISELY why he should be offered. How many other Nobles can say they would give ANYTHING to please the Majesty?” The elder counters.

BB looks desperately at his surrogate father and then, once seeing the considering expression on the man’s face and not liking it at ALL, he turns to his surrogate mother. Her expression is heartbroken but she does not disagree. It’s clear she agrees.

He swallows back bile and stands from the chair. “Excuse me, I’ll be in my room.”

All eyes watch him as he leaves.

~oOo~

BB screams and cries in his room. He doesn’t want to be a slave (because that’s ALL he’d be in the palace, he knows that. They ALL know that. Servant was just a dressed up word to hide that it just meant a noble was a lowly SLAVE)

He knows he’ll be trapped in the palace until he grows old and dies. He knows he’ll have no chance to fight for Slave and Animal Rights like he would have been able to if he still held his position as Heir to the Noble Family. 

Instead of being able to help those who lack the authority or power to help themselves, he has been ripped of his OWN power. Now no one will help HIM gain back his rights. Especially since he was GREEN.

Now without his status protecting him, he would surely be ridiculed and demeaned at the LEAST for his skin color. Or beat in secret at the worst. No one would dare blatantly kill a slave or servant of the Emperor’s. Such an act would be considered TREASON. 

He sniffled. Great. No one would kill him because he was considered property now. His stomach churned. Not if they made it look like an accident….

The door opens and Rita walks in. He curls his lip and turns away, hiding his tear stained face from the only one he trusted.

She tried to comfort him. Soothe him that “everything will be alright. This is an HONOR. I’ll write you. You’ll be safe. It’s okay, it’s okay….”

But when he continued to stare blankly out the window, she sighed and left with a parting, “I’ll let you be… A maid will be here tomorrow morning to help you pack”

He softens at the words. Only Rita followed his line of thinking that slaves were people. She and he were the only ones who called the slaves in their household as ‘butler’ or ‘maid’ but…

He exhales. He’d have to learn to accept being considered as nothing more than property now. No one would call him him a butler. He’d be lucky if any members of the palace thought to even ask his NAME.

So he changes clothes and clambers into bed, unhappy that he didn’t even get a say.

~oOo~

The horse-drawn carriage stops in front of the palace and Rita helps him out. They share a tearful farewell and promises to write each other before he’s swept away by the guards and dragged to a ballroom where the rest of the offered slaves were gathered.

He’s pushed into line and his cheeks burn at the stares. He knows they’re studying his skin color despite their bowed heads. Wondering why he was so different. Wondering why he was a freak.

More slaves are shoved into line and minutes pass before the the giant doors behind them shut. A commanding voice reverberates across the massive room. The Emperor had arrived. They straighten their posture and bow their heads further. He mimics their poses and folds his hands atop his stomach.

Footsteps, confident and slow, tap against the marble tiles. The man strides in front of the first row of offered slaves. BB’s near the back row so the man can’t see him. He half hopes the man WON’T see him or know he was former nobility, just out of spite towards his own family. They can’t gloat about a sacrifice if the Emperor didn’t even know there had BEEN a sacrifice.

The taps continue. There’s too many offerings for the man to inspect all of them. From food to materials to tools to gifts and slaves, BB doesn’t expect the Emperor to walk through all the rows of humans and look at them all. 

So when the footsteps don’t stop and an hour or two passes and his posture hurts from standing stiff so long, he’s starting to think that the man might actually, in fact, be checking each damn row and probably alternating between looking at people to looking at the food or materials or something. Whatever the reason was, could the damn man HURRY UP? Even the GUARDS were probably bored, judging by the occasional clinking of metal.

He withholds a sigh and lifts his head slightly, but with the sheer amount of people in front of him, he can’t see anything. So he drops his head and waits.

His mind wanders as he stares at the tiles, tracing imaginary pictures made from stray lines in the marbles when the feet in front of him move out of sight. He blinks, confused because did something happen? Were they supposed to go somewhere?

The distinctive tapping that had been background noise had halted. Confused, he lifts his head and freezes. The Emperor, standing in front of a half-empty row, meets his eyes with a raised brow and BB stifles a curse and drops his head. _Crap crap crap crap_.

The taps continue on and he breathes a sigh, relieved that the Emperor had no interest in him. 

BB goes back to studying the tile but his mind is whirring, hoping the man would forget he had LOOKED IN HIS EYE. Not even NOBLES were allowed to meet the Emperor’s eyes.

The tapping returns and he swallows. He lifts his head just enough to see the Emperor’s hands as they gesture to a corner of the room. He nods and moves past, muscles tense, and lifts his head more to see where the man had pointed.

His brow furrows as he registers a small gathering of women and men in decorative clothing. Were they nobles turned slaves too? They weren’t just slaves judging by their clothing, but…

His stomach churns. Something didn’t feel right. Was it their clothes or their posture? They held themselves high, but…

Still, he shuffles over and a man and woman step forwards, lips curling as they scan his form. He swallows. The pair glance behind him and purse their lips. The woman grabs his bicep and drags him out of the room. The guards pay the woman no mind until they notice BB.

Once they pass through the doors and enter another room, the woman speaks. “His Majesty must be going senile young since he chose you.”

BB swallows. “Pardon?”

She backhands him. “Do NOT speak without permission, Concubinus–“

BB’s brain stuttered to a stop. _Concubinus?_ His cheek stung.

“–been chosen but you are of the _lowest_ rank.”

With his held still turned, he slowly rightens himself and interrupts. “I think there’s been a–”

She scowls and rears a palm but the man from before enters the room. “Noble Consort Beverly, _explain.”_

The woman lowers her hand but acknowledges the man with a nod. “Noble Consort Mathew, this freak doesn’t know his place.”

The man turned his focus onto BB and scrunches his expression. “Still, you know harming the Majesty’s property can be considered a crime.”

His stomach churns. He really _was_ property now. 

Mathew turns to look at him. “Concubinus, you have permission to speak.” 

BB swallows back bile. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m not a concubine, I’m a servant.”

The woman recoils. “You insult the Majesty with those words! He does _not_ make mistakes.”

Mathew frowns. “So you were former nobility… What family did you come from?”

BB tells him.

“The Doom Patrol…” he murmurs. “A prestigious family. Surprising that they sent one of their own rather than an ordinary slave but it doesn’t matter now.”

“Right, well,” BB continues on. “I was sent on the agreement I’d be a servant, not a concubine.”

Mathew snorts. “A concubine can _be_ a servant. The Majesty chose you specifically to be one of his concubines. To refuse him is an act of treason.”

BB stiffens. _Shit._ He scrambles for a defense: anything to wiggle out of being a sex slave. “But I don’t know how it all works!”

The woman informs him of the ranks. The lowest rank was a concubine, which BB was now a part of, and the Emperor could have as many of them as he chose. The second lowest was addressed with the title of Consort and only 4 of them were allowed at that rank. There were 2 Noble Consorts, already filled with herself and Mathew. Finally, there was the Imperial Noble Consort which was currently empty but, as Beverly assured, was soon to be filled by HER.

Mathew adds that it was possible to rise in the ranks, but the chances were incredibly low since the positions were already filled. Beverly tacks on that the chances of rising straight to Imperial Noble Consort were even lower. She has the best chance since she’s the rank below Imperial Noble Consort.

Still, BB tries to protest. “How can I please him if I don’t even know what he WANTS?”

Beverly smiles. “Don’t worry, Concubinus, he won’t want you.” She leans in close to his ear. “Because you’re a freak.”

Mathew strides to the other side of the room and lifts open a window, poking his head out to check the sun. “Beverly, it’s time to leave.”

She hikes up her skirt and heads for the door with a parting wave. BB watches them leave, dumbstruck and hurt. Only after they were out of sight did he realize…

Where was he supposed to go?

His heart quickens speed as an idea creeps into his mind. No one was watching him. He turns to the window. The _open_ window. Quietly, he shut the door and hurried to the glass. He peered out and a giddy feeling bubbled inside of him.

All the guards were inside the ballroom and none of them were watching out for any slaves who would try to escape. No one would dare escape the palace, so why would there be guards to watch out for that?

He wasn’t even high off the ground! All he had to do was hop out the window, run to the vine covered gate and scale it! He’d be out of the palace and he could run and go anywhere he wanted. His palms started to sweat. He could go _anywhere._ He could meet so many people! He could meet so many _animals!_

Without his family bossing him around and without the palace watching him, he could do anything _he_ wanted. Suddenly _he_ could call the shots of his own life without asking for permission. But…what if someone noticed he was missing? Would he be hunted down and dragged back? _Killed_ even? He bit his lip.

But, what were the chances of the Emperor wasting resources to search for one _slave?_

He grinned.

~oOo~

His heart hammers against his chest as he flees from the palace. A guard had almost seen him but for once he was thankful for his green skin – he blended right in with the bush he had chosen to hide in.

So far, no one had chased him. He could still see the palace but he had gained quite a bit of distance. Even if someone DID notice he had left, on the off chance they wanted to pursue him then they would take forever to catch up.

Still, it was best to stay hidden. Just in case.

As he ducked behind a building to catch his breath, he heard horses neighing. Curious, he peered around the brick wall.

Huh. Only nobles had horses. Why would the rich be in the poor area of the empire? Regardless, he wanted to see the horses. He shuffled until he was near the front of the building, but still hugged the wall. When he spotted the back of the elaborately decorated carriage, he scowled. Damnit. The horses were on the other side.

He curved around the building and, on the other side, finally had a clear view of the horses. They were beautiful and healthy creatures: strong and young. The were a stunning shade of white–a rare color to see on a horse so they must’ve been imported. But who could’ve afforded them? How could he get closer without being seen?

He slid his gaze around, absently noticing the crowd forming around the carriage, and was just beginning to debate sliding between them when he registered the insignia painted on the door of the carriage.

The Royal Family.

_Shit_.

He stumbled back, panic hitting him hard. Were they _seriously_ looking for him? _Shit shit shit_. Impossible! _Impossible!_ They couldn’t be looking for him, they just _couldn’t_ be. He was just a slave! Nothing of value!

Still, his heart wouldn’t slow down and his instincts were screaming to _run run run_ but when his heel knocked against a metal trash can and a guard standing by the horses snagged his eye, he froze.

The guard shouted, pointing at him and the world _moved._ Faces turned towards him but he whirled on his heel. Voices rang behind him, pursuing him, as he ran between buildings. He turned a corner and burst out into a moving crowd. 

BB slammed into people, sending them tumbling and angry, but he would pick himself up and run _run run run._

Horses neighed and he turned his head and blanched as people scrambled out of the way of the incoming carriage. He threw himself out of the way and the horses skidded to a halt beside him. He jerked his gaze up at the rearing animals and then at the coachman before the door opened.

He scrambled to his feet, about to bolt but guards had caught up to him and metal chinked. He froze as a cold blade slid in front of his face while other glints of silver were aimed towards him.

“Stand _down,_ men.” The Emperor commanded.

The swords vanished but there was no sound of sheathing. He swallowed. This…wasn’t part of the plan. But if he was going to die then he was going to die _proud._ He met the Emperor’s gaze with a frown. The man cocked a brow, expression unreadable.

“Get in the carriage.”

BB blinked and stood still. What was the man playing at?

The Emperor jerked his head and the flat side of a blade pressed against his back. He glared but moved as he was ‘guided’ up the steps. The blade pulled away and the Emperor entered after him, shutting the door. Suddenly BB was aware of the heavy curtains blocking them from outside sight and sound and how close the man sitting across from him was. So the Emperor was going to kill him personally? What exactly was going on? The carriage moved.

“Explain why you fled, Concubinus.” The man commanded.

“Not my name.” He scowled. “And why? You’re just gonna kill me anyway.”

A hand thudded onto his thigh and he froze as it climbed up his pants. “If you won’t voluntarily explain then it seems I’ll have to force it out of you.”

“N–no!” He jolted, slapping the hand and moving away. “I’ll explain, _I’ll explain!”_

The Emperor pulled away, watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

He exhaled a shaky breath and shared his thoughts and reasons. Although he floundered for words, BB thought the Emperor understood…until he spoke.

“Must be a shame, though,” the Emperor began, indifferent. “All that work only to end right back where you belong.”

BB’s hackles rose. “What?”

The man continued, tone casual. “By all rights I should execute you for treason, but you haven’t been properly trained so how could you have even _known_ it was treason to run?”

BB bared his teeth. _“Excuse_ me?”

The Emperor stared him down. “You are my property now and you will act as such.”

“No I will _not.”_ BB snapped. “I’m a human _being._ I have thoughts! I have _feelings!”_ He slammed his fist against the seat cushion. “I am a _person!_ All slaves are! You’re _horrible_ if you honestly believe that a human being is the same as an object!”

The man leaned back and stretched his arms atop the seat with a lazy smile. “Oh? Though aren’t you aware the majority of slaves _deserve_ their status? They were either enemies who questioned my rule or rivals. They were conquered in a fair battle. Besides, with such a massive amount of land we own, a workforce is required for upkeep.”

BB scoffed. “No one deserves to be treated like an animal. In fact, _animals_ don’t deserve to be treated like animals! So many people are starved or beat and then _still_ expected to work hard and if they aren’t,” his voice went falsetto, _“good enough,_ then they’re killed!”

“They were enemies.” The man dismissed. “Not a loss.”

Rage bubbled to the surface. “Not a _loss?_ We’re talking about a _life._ No one has the right to decide if someone should be allowed to live or die!” His gaze darkened. “Not even you.”

The Emperor snorted. “I’m the Emperor.”

“You’re an idiot.”

When silence fell, it took BB a moment to register what he said. And what exactly was happening. His eyes shot wide. Well…if there had been a chance he was going to live _before_ then he had definitely ruined that chance. 

Slowly, the Emperor’s lips curled upwards. BB’s stomach churned. He didn’t like that smile.

“You have a lot of gall.” He waved a hand before letting it drop back atop the seat, eyes on the insignia inscribed on the door. “I’m surprised, really. Especially since you hail from a Noble Family.”

BB shifted, uncomfortable. What did he mean? Where was he going with this?

The Emperor faced him. “I could easily claim you are part of the Rebellion. Possibly working as a spy and have you killed. But no spy would run before gaining information and it’s too early for you to have even _possibly_ gained anything vital.” 

BB frowned. He’d make for a terrible spy. Too loyal to people once he became fond of them. But the Emperor didn’t need to know that.

The man braced his elbows atop his thighs and placed his chin atop folded hands. “Yet no Noble Family would send one of their members with the knowledge that the member would run. You could be considered a fugitive now and be killed on sight. You have tarnished your Family Name and they would _want_ you killed to regain their honor _and_ my favor.”

BB winced. Hadn’t thought about that.

“So.” The Emperor leaned forwards. “What’s the _real_ reason why you ran?”

He foundered. He couldn’t tell the man he ran cause he didn’t want to be a _concubine._ That would just sound pathetic or something.

“You don’t know?” He shot back instead, voice shaky. “I thought you were the all-knowing Majesty.”

The man cracked a smirk. “Knowledge is power and there is never enough knowledge to know. Now tell me your reason.”

When BB didn’t reply and instead glared at the curtains, the Emperor’s smirk darkened into a frown. “Although your impudence amuses me, it’s not wise to disobey a direct order.”

BB scrunched his face. “Or you’ll what? Kill me? You’re gonna do that anyway so why should I tell you?”

The man cocked a brow. “You’re not afraid of death?”

“No, I am.” BB shook his head. “But since it’s inevitable then I can say whatever I want.”

“Is that so? I could have you tortured for blasphemy.”

“And break Law 58?” BB retorted. “No wonder people rebelled. What good is an Emperor if he can’t even follow the laws that protect his own citizens against torture?” 

“Then perhaps I need someone to rule by my side. Ensure no valuable laws are broken.”

“Yeah, you do.” BB smirked. “Have fun searching.”

“Ah, but I have already chosen someone _and_ have a plan of action.” The man hummed. “We should visit different parts of our empire and honor them with our presence to improve morale. Perhaps it’d even be good to offer a feast for the commoners as a reward for their loyalty.”

It took him awhile, but BB finally registered something strange. “We?” His thoughts derailed. “ _Our_ empire?”

The Emperor leaned in close. “You and I are going to rule this land.”

He spluttered. “What? _What?_ You don’t even know my _name!_ You were about to have me _killed!_ Are you insane?”

“Garfield Mark Logan.” The man recited. “Surrogate son to Steve Dayton and Rita Dayton and the only green skinned member of the Doom Patrol Family.”

BB swallowed.

“You should be honored.” The Emperor smirked. “Instead of death you will become my spouse.”

No…no no no _no!_ This was exactly what he wanted to _avoid._ Well, not quite but still. He wanted to be free! He wanted to explore and meet new animals and meet new people and run around and be _free_! But if he were to stay then he’d be trapped and if they were _married_ then the man would expect…

“Not happening!” He shrieked. “ _Not happening!”_

His gaze flicked to the door and he _lunged._ Just as his hand wrapped around the knob, a limb shot out and grasped his bicep, bruising skin, and hauled him back into his seat. A body shoved itself into his lap and weighed him down, keeping him pinned.

He yelled, angry and scared, and slammed his fists against the man’s chest. “Let me go let me go let me _go!”_

The man grunted before succeeding in snatching his wrists and pinning them above his head and against the wall. His heart hammered but he bared his teeth and glared at the Emperor.

“I won’t.” BB said, tone breathless but final. “I won’t be your spouse.”

The Emperor _grinned_. “You don’t have a choice.”

“There’s _always_ a choice.” BB spat, arms burning as the man tugged them higher.

“What a shame, then.” The man switched to a indifferent tone and BB’s skin crawled. “But then again, blackmail is _always_ an enjoyable option.”

BB stiffened, expression melting into shock. “You wouldn’t… You’re ordering me to _marry_ you! You don’t even know if I’m _trustworthy!_ And If you blackmail me then I definitely _won’t_ be!”

“It’s rare to find honesty as raw and authenticity as rich as yours.” The man’s quiet tone made him fall silent. “Throughout our exchange you have not attacked me with the intent to kill. You have not lied to me. And you have not pandered me to gain my favor.”

“Right,” BB warily agreed. “I’m a decent human being so what’s your point?”

“In the realm of the elite, you are a treasure.” The man leaned close and BB shied away but he had nowhere to hide. “And I plan to keep you for a long, long time.”

Lips covered his own and he gasped. A tongue dominated him and he jerked his head but the Emperor’s free hand grabbed his hair and kept him locked in place. His screams were muffled by the man’s own. He frantically tried to meet the man’s eyes, to plead without words to let him go.

But the Emperor’s eyes were closed and the carriage had rocked to a stop. The Emperor pulled away with a smirk.

“Run all you want, Empress Garfield. But do so and your family will die. One. By. One.”

The Emperor left the carriage, leaving behind a shellshocked young man.

~oOo~

_“Unbelievable.”_ Beverly placed a hand above her heart while her nails on BBs already bruised bicep dug into his skin. She lowered her voice as her loud tone echoed in the hall, drawing stares. “His Majesty wants _him_ for tonight? The green freak? The little _runaway?_ He’s just a concubine! And a filthy one at that. What would the Majesty want with _him?”_

BB scowled, readying a acerbic retort.

“To bed him, probably.” The messenger shrugged. “That’s what concubines are for.”

Ice clawed his spine and silenced him. Mentally he noted to himself, if he ever successfully escaped then he would put an emphasis on protecting the rights of sex slaves.

Beverly pursed her lips. “But why _him?_ There’s plenty of consorts available who are by _far_ more worthy of the Majesty’s time!”

“I’m not here to question orders.” The messenger lifted the flap of her satchel and pulled out a wax sealed letter. “Deliver this to the guards in front of the master bedroom and they will allow him entry.”

Beverly’s jaw dropped, appalled. “Did I hear that right? Are you aware that no one other than the Emperor is allowed in there?”

“Well aware, Noble Consort Beverly.” She droned. “Which is why the letter is needed.”

The woman huffed but snatched the parchment and stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket. She bid farewell and ushered BB into the bathroom.

“We can’t have you meeting with His Majesty looking like a filthy street rat.” She turned the faucet knobs of the bathtub. “Clean yourself while I get you some…presentable clothing.”

BB frowned as Beverly shut the door. Despite his misgivings, he _did_ feel filthy so he flicked a hand through the stream. Freezing cold, yikes. He adjusted the knobs then stripped and stepped into the tub. It was only once he had finished soaping himself up did he realize he hadn’t locked the door.

Beverly barged in and he flailed, frantically swiping away his bubble beard and gathering the soap bubbles to hide his privates. She took one look at him and balked.

“You really _are_ green all over.”

His cheeks darkened and he stumbled to recover from embarrassment. “Where’s my clothes?”

“So ungrateful!” She let the bundle in her arms drop. “I expect you to be dressed in five minutes! It’s uncouth to make the Emperor wait.”

He thinned his lips but once she left, he lifted the drain and rinsed what he could. Though his hair still had soap suds, he stepped out of the tub and tried not to drip onto the clothes. Not that it would matter much since they were _already_ damp because of his previous splashing.

He grabbed a towel and dried himself, the occasional “hurry up!” assaulting his ears. Still, he dressed and glanced at the mirror only to cringe. The bright red horribly clashed with his skin color and the size was two times too big and hung off his body and because of the wet spots the color was mismatched here and there. Still, maybe Beverly’s slights would work in his favor. If the Emperor thought he was hideous, then the man would want nothing to do with him, right? Right.

He opened the door only to be greeted by a scowl. Beverly waved a hand at a slave, dismissing the stranger. “Something has come up that I must attend to. It’s not my job to babysit you. Surely you’re smart enough to find your own way there?”

With that, she bustled away, the slave keeping pace but significantly more subdued. BB blinked for a moment before he turned his gaze down the other end of the hallway. Other than the slaves cleaning the marble floors and walls, along with the occasional vase or picture frame, there were no guards.

No one watching him.

He bit his lip, debating. He could make a break for it, but… No, no, he _couldn’t_ run. Not with the Emperor’s last threat still possible. He couldn’t risk his freedom at the cost of his family’s lives, even if they were the one’s who put him in the situation in the first place.

He exhaled and shuffled to the nearest maid. Though the chances of finding the room were slim in a palace as massive as the one he was in, he still had to at least _pretend_ to care. Then at least he can say he tried.

“Excuse me,” he murmured. “Miss?”

When the maid scrubbing the floor didn’t respond, he knelt and tapped her shoulder. She flinched so he withdrew his touch, concerned. Still, she stopped scrubbing and turned towards him, but kept her head bowed. He frowned.

“I won’t hurt you…and…uh…can you look at me? I feel awkward talking to your hair and not your eyes.”

Silence descended and BB’s ears pricked. No one was moving. He shifted, self-conscious. Just because he wasn’t home didn’t mean he had to start treating enslaved humans like they were inferior. Was it really that strange of a concept? Did the _slaves_ even think they were inferior? He bit his lip. Was the girl even breathing?

“Well if you don’t want to look at me, that’s okay too. It’s your choice and all, so. I just…I mean…uh…this is awkward.” He offered a nervous laugh. “I think I’ll let you be now? Didn’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to know where the master bedroom was.”

He started to stand but a soft and shaky voice spoke. “Permission for this slave to speak?”

BB winced. They even called themselves slaves? His stomach churned. “Uh, sure?”

Though the girl didn’t lift her head, she listed directions and he brightened. “Thank you so much!” He stood. “Oh! By the way, my name’s Garfield. What’s yours?”

She hesitated. “Slaves don’t have names.”

Uh oh. He squirmed. “You don’t?” His voice cracked like his heart and hopes. How could someone not have a _name?_ “No one gave you one?”

She shrank away from him but showed her wrist. “This slave is addressed by the number and mark on this arm.”

He recoiled as he recognized the symbol for expendability next to the number. He had heard in passing that slaves had the insignia of their owners family branded to their arm, but a expendability symbol? So if something happened to her then no one would help because she was thought to be _expendable?_

He hadn’t realized he’d been growling in the back of his throat until he registered soft apologies. He whiplashed into apologetic himself.

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you at _all._ No need to apologize, I’m just–that mark on your arm! It’s not okay! No human life is expendable. Slaves are _people!_ You’re a _person_. Why does no one realize that?” He started to work himself into a rant before she murmured.

“Thank you.”

He blinked, absently registering the tear stained face looking at his own and he softened. He gathered her into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back and murmured in her ear as she sobbed.

When the crying subsided and the shoulder of his shirt soaked, the girl pulled away and he smiled.

“Let’s give you a name. What would you like to be called?” He swept his gaze across the silent room. “Actually, how about we _all_ get names? And you each can pick your own! That way you _definitely_ get the kinda name you want.”

Heads started to lift before everyone dropped into a low bow, facing something behind him. He paused, tilting his head, before slowly turning. He paled.

When had the Emperor and his bodyguards arrived?

The man shifted cold eyes across the room. “So this is where you were–gallivanting with the inferior. Rather unfit choice for company, wouldn’t you think?”

BB gritted his teeth. “I was giving them names, actually, since they’re _people_ after all. Not that you’d understand that. It’s too much of a _humane_ concept for you. Little advanced, I know, but maybe you’ll get there.”

Scandalized gasps rose from slaves and guards alike. The Emperor merely cocked a brow. 

A guard stepped forwards. “Insolent–”

The Emperor lifted a palm. “Must be as challenging as following simple instructions like finding a single _room.”_

BB thinned his lips. “Really? Cause apparently that room has a set of guards and requires a letter to get in. Sounds paranoid and extreme. But I guess you _have_ to be if everyone hates you.”

The gasps from the soldiers turned to outrage. Swords unsheathed and he tensed, eyeing their weapons and stances.

_“Halt.”_ The Emperor barked. “I did not order you to attack.”

“Your Majesty!” One guard protested, affronted but bowing. “In all due respect, this…” the man glanced at BBs clothing. _“Sex slave_ speaks blasphemy!

The other guard added. “This slave does _not_ know its place and should be punished. Let its suffering be an example to other disobedient slaves.”

BB snarled. “How ‘bout I kick your–”

A small hand touched his ankle and a timid voice spoke behind him. “He meant no harm Your Majesty.”

The first guard dropped his jaw. “It’s causing a revolt! Your Majesty, for your protection all slaves present need to be eradicated or else this disease could spread.”

BB shot his eyes wide and lifted his palms. “Whoa, wait, that’s–”

The second guard cheered an agreement and advanced on BB and the girl kneeling beside him.

BB stood his ground in front of the girl and readied his fists. If he was going down, he was going down _fighting._

And then metal flashed and crimson rained. The heads of the guards rolled off their necks and squelched against the tiles. Blood splattered against his shirt and shoes, darkening but blending with the bright red fabric all the same. BB stared, color draining from his skin and bile rose in his throat. The headless bodies toppled to the ground and he skittered back, shoving the girl away from the body in the process.

The Emperor straightened, blood drenching the sword in his grip, and studied the corpses with a stone face. 

“What a waste. Had they obeyed me then death wouldn’t have been necessary.”

BB staggered a few steps away and collapsed to his knees and hurled. When he had nothing left to vomit, the Emperor grasped the back of his shirt collar and hauled him to his feet.

“Slaves,” The man commanded, a limp BB in his hold. “Clean up this mess and do not speak of what transpired or it will be _your_ head I remove.”

The Emperor sheathed his bloody sword and swept the younger man into his arms, bridal-style. BB kept his mouth shut, afraid to be the involuntary cause of someone else’s death.

The man carried him down the hall and through the palace, catching several odd looks before each observer bowed their head. BB stared blankly at his lap until a massive door swung open and he was abruptly airborne.

He gasped but before he could flail, his back bounced against a soft but solid surface. Silk brushed against his skin and he realized he was laying on a bed. Alarms rang and he jolted upright, scrambling backwards.

The man was going to fuck him right after _murdering_ human lives? BB wanted to hurl again but there was nothing left.

A cold voice made him tremble. “I suggest you spread your legs if you don’t want to watch someone _else_ die.”

BB struggled to breathe. “You just…” he wheezed. “You just _killed_ them.”

The Emperor prowled closer. “They acted on my behalf _without_ my command.” He climbed onto of the hyperventilating young man. “They intended to harm royalty.” He cupped Beast Boy’s chin. “Namely my _spouse_.”

Lips silenced his own. He didn’t resist the invasion though his heart pounded against his ribs and sweat coated his forehead. The man continued the conquest over him and Beast Boy couldn’t muster the will to protest. 

~oOo~

By the time it was all over, Beast Boy had passed out only to wake that morning in the arms of his rapist. His lower back ached and he couldn’t stifle a groan as he shifted to roll away, skin sticky from sweat and things he’d rather not think about.

“Good morning, love.” The man murmured, pulling his torso taut against a broad chest. “Last night was a _delight_.”

Beast Boy averted his gaze and didn’t reply, opting instead to fall limp and hope the man would let him go sooner if he didn’t struggle.

“Don’t be like that.” Air huffed against his ear. “Look at me with those gems of yours.”

The Emperor grasped his chin and tugged. Beast Boy followed the movement and reluctantly met the creep’s gaze with dull eyes. The Emperor clicked his tongue.

“Many would consider sleeping with the Royal Ruler desirable.” Fingers combed through the younger man’s hair. “Some can only _dream_ of rising in the ranks through this honor. So,” a thumb found it’s way behind his ear and he instinctively relaxed. “Why resist?”

Beast Boy blinked fast, trying to clear the fog of content and blind safety, but the gentle and rhythmic pressure was hard to block out. He pulled away from the dangerous hands and managed to croak.

“I had my own dreams.”

“Oh?” The Emperor pulled him back. “And?”

“Doesn’t matter now.” He dismissed, listless. “I can’t make them real.”

“I’m the ruler of this land.” The thumb glided to his ear and he softened despite a half-hearted attempt to retreat. “Anything you want, I can give.”

A flash of agitation gave him the strength to fight the warmth and snap. “You won’t. You _never_ will. You’re obsession with me will fade and you’ll prove to be just a _liar_.”

The Emperor growled and dug his fingers into the younger man’s scalp. “Watch your tongue.”

Beast Boy wriggled, making the strands of his hair tear more. “Or you’ll _what?_ It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“You know very well what I can do.”

Memories whirred through his mind. The blood, the heads, the sex, the _fear._ He froze and couldn’t stop a whimper. The hands holding him loosened, but not enough to allow him room to flee.

“Now tell me,” The man murmured into his ear. “What are your dreams?”

Without a way out, Beast Boy told him. He told him of how he wanted to fight for Animal and Slave Rights. How he wanted to use his money and rank as a starting point to convincing others to treat animals kindly and end slavery. How he wanted to change the world for the better, no matter how small or how slow. 

Throughout it all, the Emperor remained silent and unreadable. And when he finished, the man only offered a condescending smile. “That’s adorable but even _you_ know that’s impossible.”

Beast Boy flushed. “No, it’s not! I’ll end slavery, I’ll end animal cruelty, I’ll _make it real.”_

The Emperor snorted and let him go. The man rolled out from under the covers and headed for the bathroom with the parting words. “Delusional fool.”

Beast Boy gritted his teeth and grabbed a fistful of the sheets as he muttered. “I’ll make it happen. Even if I have to start with _you.”_

He tugged the silk sheets out from under the covers and wrapped them around his torso. The Emperor had trashed his clothes into scraps last night, leaving him nothing to wear. And as embarrassing as it was to walk around the palace with nothing but a thin and stained _sheet_ on, he’d rather take the humiliation than the suffocating presence of the Emperor.

“And where might _you_ be going?”

The younger man grumbled but faced the creep. “To my room, where else?”

The man snorted. “This _is_ your room. Come here.”

Beast Boy tensed. “What?”

“Come here.”

“Not that.” He gritted his teeth. “This isn’t my room. My clothes are in,” he scrunched his face, “the Concubines Chamber.”

The man strode close and waved a hand. “Empresses sleep in the Master Bedroom and do _not_ wear scanty rags.”

“Would you stop that?” Beast Boy spat until he had to backpedal. “I’m not your wife!”

“But you _will_ be.” The man pinned him against a wall. “And as my spouse you are to address me by name, Grant Wilson.”

The younger man swallowed. “N-no, I’m not…”

A hand yanked on the sheets clutched against his chest and hauled him forwards. He stumbled into the Emperor’s chest right before the man swept him into his arms.

Only the partner to the ruler could address the man by his name alone rather than with a title. And the Emperor sounded _serious._ But he couldn’t be. He just _couldn’t_ be. No royal would marry someone of lower rank, noble or not!

The man toted him into the bathroom and ripped off the protective fabric before dunking him into the massive bathtub. Soon after locking the door, the Emperor entered the tub and set to cleaning them both despite the younger man’s protests.

When they finished, Beast Boy was quick to flee with a towel but still couldn’t get far. Within moments of exiting the bathroom, the Emperor had boxed him against a wall and soon dragged him to a large closet. The men lifted a shirt and matching pants off a hanger, followed by–

“A dress?” Beast Boy struggled in the grip. “I am _not_ wearing that!”

“Empresses wear dresses.” The man shoved him and the dress into his arms into the closet and closed the door, quickly leaning against them to keep the younger man locked inside. “And you are my fiancé.”

He slammed his fists against the wood, shouting. “Let me out! I’d rather wear a towel than this!”

A low growl made him pause. “That body is for mine alone to see.”

He swallowed. That sounded…awfully possessive. Unnerved, he quieted and retreated from the exit. With an exhale, he let the towel drop and tugged on the dress like a shirt only to find it wouldn’t slide over his head. He tugged off the fabric.

“Doesn’t fit.” He held the clothing over his chest as the doors opened and the Emperor entered.

“Unzip it first.” The man advanced and Beast Boy backpedaled.

“Okay, okay!”

But the man didn’t listen. Instead, he looped an arm behind the younger male’s bare back and tugged him close. He plucked the fabric from green hands and unzipped the back before stuffing the smaller man into the dress.

Beast Boy grumbled in protest but slipped his arms through the sleeves and the Emperor zipped up the back. “Can’t I at least have some underwear?”

“Not until you earn it.” A palm groped his rear and he yelped. 

The man tugged him out of the closet and led the way to the doors. “W-wait,” Beast Boy floundered. “You can’t seriously expect me to go out there in _this._ ”


	3. Unnaturally Natural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where superhumans are ostracized for their “unnatural advantage against society” and thus must wear Inhibitor Jewelry to restrain their powers, Beast Boy works in disguise as a wildlife photographer. He was safe…until a poacher finds out and threatens to reveal his secret.

The sun beat scorched his exposed skin as he lay sprawled on the dirt in a savanna with a camera pressed against his eye and his satchel at his side. The strap of the camera rubbed irritatingly against his neck. The white make-up on his arms and face felt like it just might melt off if it weren’t for the fact he had used the waterproof kind. He was decked in brownish yellow button down and trousers to blend among the dry grass. Though he was alone, he couldn’t risk _any_ chance of someone seeing he had green skin.

He adjusted the lens on his camera so the image of the lion and his pride sharpened. He was a human with superpowers in a world that scorned superheroes due to their unnatural abilities. If anyone knew he had the ability to shape-shift or that he hadgreen skin, then he’d not only lose his job…he might very well be killed. It was bad enough he was forced to wear anklets to restrain his powers, but to lose his life? No thanks.

The young man clicked a button and the camera clacked as it took a photo. The Wildlife Photographers company didn’t know his secret and neither did his co-workers. He made sure to always wear thick layers of make-up and a newsboy cap with ear flaps to hide his ears. It was almost like a winter time beanie except with a bill like a baseball cap.

Static crackled in his ear as his earbud flared to life. “Garfield,” a husky voice grated his ears. “There’s been a sighting of poachers attacking endangered elephants near the watering hole. Think you can snap some pictures?”

Beast Boy, as he preferred to call himself in memory of his hero days, scowled. “Are you crazy, Malchior? They’ll _shoot_ me! Call the cops and let _them_ handle it.”

“Aw,” the man purred in response. “Don’t you wanna be a hero?”

He snorted, half tempted to reach into his bag and grab his phone to end the call. “I wanna keep my life more.”

He hadn’t realized he had spoken too loud until a low growl caught his attention. “Gotta go!” He squeaked and looked up.

Prowling close with ears flat against her skull, a lioness neared. She couldn’t see him between the tall grass just yet, so he had a second or two. Darting his gaze around himself, he found a rock and hurriedly grasped it and chucked it to his right. The earbud popped out of his ear as he did so. The lioness growled and turned her neck, following the sound.

Slowly, he righted himself and backed away. He retreated until he was a safe distance away…and right by the watering hole. He swept his gaze across the area, adjusting his grip on his camera, but didn’t see any elephants or poachers. Had Malchior been lying? His coworker tended to do that just to rile him, but… 

Still, he decided to roam around the small lake, careful to stay away from the shore in case if alligators or crocodiles occupied the water. Other than a zebra or two, there was nothing around. He swiped a hand across his forehead and panted. His makeup needed to be reapplied. A hand tapped his thigh and he froze. His satchel! He had left his satchel back–

A gunshot pierced the air and an elephant screamed followed by an angry bellow. That sounded like a _baby_ elephant scream and an upset mother one too. He rushed towards the sound and curved around several spread out trees until he skidded to a halt.

Amidst a patch of short brown grass, a large group of men and women pinned a mother elephant beneath a net while the baby was trapped beneath a similar net. He gasped. Three of them held saws in their hands, near her tusks and were–

“Hey!” He shouted, anger boiling as he rushed towards them. “You’re hurting them!”

A tall white man with slim but muscled build turned. Blond bangs framed a handsome but sharp face and he cast an unimpressed glance Beast Boy’s way before returning to directing the poachers.

Beast Boy gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand by and watch! But he couldn’t use his powers–the anklets needed a key to unlock them and he had left it in his bag. And he couldn’t use his phone cause that was in his bag _too._ He cursed. But he couldn’t just leave! What could he–his camera!

Bringing the device to his eye, he snapped several photos. The clicks went unnoticed until he stormed to the apparent leader. Though he stayed a distance away, the mother’s agonized shrieks made his heart ache and he shouted to be heard.

“I’ve got proof right here.” His heart hammered, hands tight on the camera. “I’ll call the police. Call them off and I won’t.”

The leader turned fully and he swallowed. Hadn’t noticed the pistol on his hip before. The man sauntered to loom over him but he stood his ground, sweating bullets, and held the camera until his fingers lost feeling.

“You’re in no position to command me…superhuman.”

He froze, one hand prying itself from his camera to touch his face. His breath hitched when the stranger stepped into his bubble and swiped the camera.

“In fact, you should be obeying _me_ if you don’t want your secret out.”

Another round of shrieks snapped him back to reality. He lunged for the camera with a snarl. “Fine! But let them go!”

The man dodged his bids for the device, even going so far as to slip the strap over his head and wear the camera as he moved. Beast Boy’s chest heaved as he slowed, the heat unbearable. The man smirked and grasped his wrist, tugging him into a broad chest.

“Lemme go,” his lungs burned and he struggled in the hold.

“I’m sure a superhuman would fetch a pretty price on the market…but green’s my favorite color. I might just keep you instead.”

Hands gathered his wrists behind his back. “What?”

“Fowler!” The man shouted, attention diverted. “Get me some rope.”

“No!” Beast Boy protested. 

Too soon, a woman approached with hemp and his wrists were bound. He was hauled away from the group and stuffed into the back of one jeep out of three. His protests went ignored and the leader turned on the car and air conditioning only to leave him in the car alone.

He watched the man curve behind a tree and immediately set to squeezing between the seats. He halted as he neared the door, eying the wheel. A moped was the only vehicle he knew how to drive, but…

His ear twitched and he checked the window. _Shoot._ The group was returning. Deciding to take his chances, he clambered into the driver’s seat. Instinctively, he pressed down his right foot but nothing happened. Left foot returned the same result. He cursed. What was he missing?

Beast Boy looked to his right. The gear shift! It was in park, so if he just managed to–

“Hey!” A voice shouted.

He panicked and twisted so his elbow pressed against the button on the back of the shift and sent it all the way up into drive. He sucked in air and pressed a foot down, succeeding in flooring the gas and scaring him half to death as the jeep shot forwards.

_Shoot, the wheel!_

The car tilted towards the path of a tree and his heart stopped. Frantically, he bit the wheel and yanked to the left. The car turned with the movement and he continued struggling to steer his way through the maze of trees.

He didn’t dare look back. He just had to get away for now and…and then what? He didn’t know. He just had to get away. He’d be no help to anyone if he was caught.

Time passed. He didn’t know how much, but it passed and he finally let his foot off the pedal and released his aching jaw. He inhaled and leaned back in his seat.

Now how to get the ropes off his wrists?

He checked the surroundings. Only giraffe were passing by. He maneuvered himself till he managed to open the door. He kicked it wider and slipped his bound hands beneath his legs and back in front of him. As he set to gnawing the knot with his teeth, he stepped out of the jeep and looked around. Where exactly was he?

He glanced at the sun. If west was _that_ way, then he wanted to head east towards the campsite. If he could find his way to home-base, then he could orient himself and go back to the lions to retrieve his satchel.

Though he wouldn’t be able to recover his camera, he might be able to find the elephants and call some veterinarians. Hopefully the poachers didn’t plan to kill them.

The rope fell away and he walked east. Better to travel on foot in case the poachers decided to track down their van.

~oOo~

After finding the campsite followed by failing to find the elephants _or_ his things, Beast Boy had returned to work. Though he didn’t like the sick feeling in his stomach that he had failed the animals. The fact he couldn’t find his satchel left a niggling thought of worry in his mind. Without his satchel, he lost the key to the anklets…and thus his powers.

Hopefully he could find a locksmith or someone who could craft a key in secret so he’d have something. But as of now, his powers were out of reach for who knew how long.

Still, he had gone about his day. This time, he reapplied a thicker amount of makeup and tried to explain how he ‘lost’ his camera to his manager. The day ended rather uneventfully as he wandered the wilderness, searching for the best photo spots…until he arrived at the campsite.

Tents lined a fire pit next to a well. But what caught his attention was the _very_ familiar man speaking with his manager. He swallowed back a growl and approached only to widen his eyes.

“My satchel!” He blurted. 

Two pairs of eyes turned onto him and he stiffened. 

“That’s my satchel.” He gritted his teeth. “How’d you find it?”

The manager braced hands on her hips. “He found your camera, you should be thankful!”

He balked. “What? But he–”

The man stepped forwards. “Garfield, why don’t we catch up over dinner? It’s late and I’m hungry.”

He swallowed back a retort when his manager shooed them away. Instead, the moment they were out of sight and heading towards a jeep, he growled.

“What do you want?”

The man hummed. “Your secret’s on the line. Obey and I’ll keep it safe.”

He simmered but quieted.


	4. Masquerade & Crime AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous crime boss, Slade Wilson hosts a masquerade and the superhero Beast Boy is stuffed into a dress and sent to investigate. Problem is, he catches the eye of Slade's son Grant Wilson, and the young man isn't keen on letting him go. Unfinished.

Slade is a wealthy business man and his son Grant is the first in line to the inherit Slade's business. Slade is also the leading Underground Crime Lord. Grant is 22. Jericho secretly works for the good guys by being a spy and is 20

To keep pleasant connection with fellow business men, Slade hosts a masquerade ball and invites the other crime bosses and their plus ones to attend the ball.

The Titans, a team of superheroes known to fight any and all crime, are determined to take down the Lead Crime Boss. They know Slade's civilian identity but have no proof of his crimes. Even if they did, Slade is a wealthy and powerful man and would be a challenge to imprison.

They learn of the masquerade ball from Jericho. Jericho also tells them that after the ball, Slade is planning to host a secret meeting between the crime lords.

The Titans come up with a plan. One of them would go to the ball as Jericho's plus one. The only problem? Slade would be suspicious of his youngest son attending the ball with a random girl.

The ball will happen in a week. So the Titans decide they need to choose someone to disguise themself and "accidentally meet" Jericho in public before then. The volunteer would then continue meeting with Jericho in public and then Jericho would ask the disguised volunteer to attend the ball with him.

The team looks to the girls but Raven glares and Robin figures Starfire would make for a terrible actor. They debate whether or not to call in members from Titans East before deciding that to send a message and then for the person to travel would take too long. Plus, the Main Titans didn't even know if the girls would be decent actors.

So they stand around trying to figure out what to do when Beast Boy speaks, voice still high-pitched despite puberty.

"What if Cyborg built a robot that _looked_ like a girl and–"

Beast Boy freezes when he sees Raven's face. She's smiling. A demented, half-crazed smile that's a warning of not-fun-times heading his way.

"We don't need a robot when we have a flat-chested _girl_ right here." Her eye twitches and he realizes she's trying not to laugh.

Beast Boy frowns, furrowing his brow, and checks her and Starfire's breasts. "What? But you're not–"

She whacks the back of his head and he squeaks and shuts his eyes. When he opens them, he sees Cyborg and Robin and even _Starfire_ smiling in a way that suggests they caught on to the secret. There's a scary glint in their eyes and he decides that not only does he _not_ want to know, he should get outta there as soon as possible.

He retreats a step. "Uh, well, nice talking to you dudes, but–"

Raven laughs, flat-toned and decidedly _evil_. He swallows as she snatches the front of his shirt and hauls him into the center of the semi-circle of Titans.

"Starfire," The villain muses. "Haven't you always wanted to play _dress up_ with someone?"

Starfire clasps her hands together and floats off the ground, a vibrant grin brightening her face in all the wrong ways. "It would be a _wondrous_ experience to play the game of dressing-up with friend Beast Boy!"

Beast Boy lifts his hands. "Whoa, whoa, wait–"

Cyborg presses a punch against the poor teen's shoulder. "Yeah, I'm sure he'd _love_ to wear the prettiest dress you can find."

Robin fails in stifling a smirk.

...

The dress was pretty, sure. Full of sparkles that looked like stars scattered about the black fabric. A light blue strip of fabric wrapped around the waist and formed a bow that draped at the side. The color matched the elegant mask decorated with swirls and stars and topped with a a batch of black feathers (thankfully fake) at the left top corner of the mask.

But still. He didn't have to like _wearing_ it _._

~oOo~


	5. Cabana Server

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though Garfield doesn't need a summer job thanks to his boyfriend, Robin, he still wants one. So when he scores a position as a cabana server at a nearby amusement park in Jump City, he takes the job. It's hard work, but manageable…until a wealthy man appears and kidnaps him. Unfinished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I recycle my own OCs. Becca and Angie appear in my other BBSlade story Trapped, and appear in this one as well. I'm lazy.
> 
> Been juggling a summer job myself, as well as exploring arts and crafts like melting crayons or making paper-maché pinatas. Haven't been writing and had this old thing sitting around so I figured I might as well share.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Garfield grinned, bright and sunny as he bid farewell to the cabana occupants. With their turn done, it was time to clean up their mess and prepare the cabana for the next group which…he checked the watch on his wrist. Would arrive in half an hour or so. Just had to sweep the floors of all the sand, change the towels for dry and clean beach towels, wipe the glass counters, and check the shore for any beach toys laying around.

He set to work, cleaning and organizing just like he'd been taught. Though he wasn't naturally a neat person, between working as a waiter during school year and now as a Cabana Server at the beach of an amusement park, the art of cleanliness had been drilled into him if he wanted to keep his job. Soon enough, he hustled away from the lone cabana to hand the dirty towels over to the laundromat. Now then…

"Sand swept away? Check." He muttered, mentally rolling through the list. "Surfing boards propped and wiped? Check. Boogie boards for kiddos intact? Check."

After scanning the room one last time, from the walls to the floor and to the beach chairs and leather couches, and found he was satisfied with the results, he checked the clock. Just minutes to spare. A glance in the mirror on the wall opposite the clock and by a colorful and wooden kids table, confirmed his appearance needed tidying.

Brandishing a comb from a pocket, he tamed his spiky but short green hair. Though his complexion was an unusual green due to a rare disease he caught as a child, the color was still a healthy shade and blended nicely against the light blue button down shirt. He patted the airy shirt of sand that fell from his hair and brushed the tan shorts of his uniform. There. Now he was presentable enough to greet the next wave of either genuinely nice people on vacation or snobby rich elites who liked to harass him for any mistake.

Though the job paid well, how the guests treated him varied from group to group. Since the cabana sat beside the amusement park and had access to it's own private beach, the guests who paid for a spot usually had money to spare despite such high costs. Such expanse of wealth in turn meant they had no respect for those who served them. If they had the money, then they had the right to treat others however they wanted.

There was always the spoiled rich guests, but some guests were generous sweethearts. His own boyfriend, playfully dubbed Robin by him for his heroic endeavors of volunteer work and donations, was the adopted son of a wealthy businessman. True, Robin would often take himself too seriously, but he always had respect for those who had to work to earn their keep.

So hopefully the next guests, a family under the name Wilson and who were assumedly the Wilson's friends or extended family since they had different last names, would be a decent group of people.

Garfield hustled out of the cabana and along a boardwalk, sneakers tapping against the sunbaked wood. The pathway widened to pavement as he arrived at a row of concession stands mingling with the park attractions. A front desk curved into view and there stood a group of eight adults and two kiddos. He slapped on a smile and chirped a greeting. Hopefully they wouldn't be too bossy. But given their expressions, that wouldn't be the case.

"Welcome to–"

"You're late." The sharp-faced man in the front glared.

Yep. Wasn't the case. He cleared his throat and swallowed back a grouchy retort. "Right, sorry about that. Had to ensure the cabana was up to standards and all that."

The man, and his entourage, were unimpressed. The woman at the blond's side snapped her fingers. "Don't just stand there–get to work!"

Garfield resisted the scowl.  _Must be his wife._ They were one of  _those_ people. He plastered on an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I'll check you right in." He rushed to the computer. "The appointment is under Wilson, correct?"

"Yes." The man gruffed. "Grant Wilson."

"Alright then," he typed their arrival into the device and straightened, waving a hand. "Please follow me to your cabana."

The group of men and women followed, the children striding stiff-faced as well, and Garfield couldn't help but wonder what kinda of group would go to an  _amusement park_ if they had no sense of fun.

Once they arrived, he outstretched an arm and gestured to the three-walled building. "Until 4:30pm this place is yours. Plenty of time for surfing, boogie boarding, and overall relaxing. If you need anything like a meal, beverage, or fresh towels, or even some clean-up, please type in your request on the tablet atop that table by the towels and I'll deliver. Everything's already paid for so please enjoy your stay."

Customary spiel over, he surveyed the cabana and the occupants one last time. The men and women scanned the place disinterestedly, but at least the children brightened. One of the two girls, the younger he guessed, tugged on Wilson's leg and said something. Since everything seemed alright, he prepared to leave when Wilson shot him a frown.

He hesitated. "Um…" the frown deepened and he hastened to add. "How may I help?"

"My daughter would like to play on the beach."

Poor kid. She had to have a stick in the mud of a father like that?  _Geeze_. Still, he smiled. "Absolutely! The beach is open to only your group." He directed his attention to the suddenly embarrassed looking girl. "Boogie boarding is fun–you outta try it!"

Wilson's frown darkened into a scowl. What did he say wrong? "She doesn't want to play alone."

Garfield blinked and looked at the other daughter, who was busy staring at the surf boards. "Um…"

"Play with her."

_"Um…"_  Had he heard right? Did the dude just order him to play with his daughter? What kinda father  _was_ he? Couldn't even play on the beach. Wait. Would he lose his job if he played with the customers? Was he even allowed to do that? "Uh…"

Wilson glared. "Seems to me you aren't doing your job. I gave a request and you aren't delivering. Should I contact your manager?"

"No!" Garfield yelped. His manager was evil embodied. One slight mistake and he'd lose his job so fast and he  _needed_ this job. If anything to prove to his boyfriend that he wasn't helpless. That he wasn't dead weight. That he could actually  _do_ something with his life. "No, no, I'm sorry, I was just surprised, that's all. I'd be happy to help, I mean," he hastened to correct, "to play with her."

"Good." Wilson tapped the girl's shoulder and pivoted. "I expect to hear she enjoyed herself or it will be your manager hearing from me."

"R-right…" he trailed as the man sat himself among the other adults. Garfield refocused on the child and jolted, realizing she looked sad. "Um–mm–uh." he flailed for words. "Well let's play?"

She offered an awkward smile and his heart melted. She didn't mean to get him in trouble, she just wanted a friend. His fake smile warmed into a real one.

He crouched to be eye-level with her. "Hey, now, boogie-boarding really  _is_ fun." The other girl wandered over, gaze flicking to the surf boards. "But surfing is also fun. Wanna learn and I'll teach you?  _Both_ of you?"

She brightened and grabbed her sister's hand, dragging the startled girl back to the surf boards with a chirped. "C'mon Angelina! Mister is gonna teach us!"

He chuckled nervously, feeling several stares watching him. Still, he followed after them and helped them choose their boards. The younger, Rebecca he learned, chose the vibrant pink one while the older, Angelina, gravitated towards the sky blue board.

Soon they applied sunscreen and removed their outer wear to reveal their bathing suits, but he on the other hand kept his shirt on. Though he didn't mind having green skin, he knew others didn't share the same view. Wearing shorts was pushing it, so there was no need to take off his shirt and show the world his torso was green too. Plus, even though the shirt would be heavier in the water, it would keep him from getting sunburned. Now if only he could remember if he had applied sunscreen to his face recently.

"Alright, so." he treaded water while the children lay on the surf boards. "Remember to keep the wrist band that's connected to the surf board on. That way if you fall off, you'll be able to keep your board near and get back on it sooner."

Angelina nodded. "But what if the board is over us while we're under water, Mr. Garfield?"

He smiled despite the awkwardness of hearing himself be addressed with the title. "One thing you can do is use the strand of your wrist band to tug it away from you, or you can use one hand above you to push the board away."

Rebecca cut in, impatient. "But when do we  _surf?"_

He checked behind them and grinned as he spotted an incoming wave. "Right now. Start paddling with your arms and get ready to stand when the wave is right behind you!"

The two children burst into excited paddling and he ducked under the water as the wave washed over him. The current rolled against him and soon he resurfaced, blinking against the sunlight and spitting out water to see the children both successfully standing, if wobbly, and riding the wave.

He cheered. "You did it!"

Rebecca toppled off her board, soon followed by Angelina, and he swam towards them. They resurfaced soon enough and he laughed, feeling proud as he saw the delighted grins on their faces. They finally weren't statues.

They continued to play on the beach, alternating between building sand castles, boogie boarding the smaller waves, or surfing the larger waves. The sun slowly headed west and they decided to surf one last time before taking a break and eating a meal.

And then worry struck.

Rebecca, playfully dubbed Becca after spending so long playing together, had been knocked over by a wave before she could fully stand and her board was drifting fast away with no sign of her swimming to the surface. Concern rose fast and he dived beneath the waves, eyes open against the sting of salt and sand, and nearly swallowed water when he spotted a stranger in a full-on diving suit holding a struggling Becca.

He rushed forwards and grabbed an arm, attention on the flailing child, and kneed the stranger in the groin. The stranger released her and he kicked off the person, using the momentum to swim fast to the surface. He lifted her above the water and treaded, gasping himself and about to shout, when a hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him under.

Water burned his lungs and he coughed and swallowed more water. The diver tugged him deeper, pressure increasing around them and making his head ache, and blackness spotted across his vision.

His eyes closed just as warmth gripped his bicep and hauled him upwards. Air hit his face and his eyes snapped open, sucking in air and coughing wildly as someone dragged him to shore. Sand scraped against his back as the person laid him down and rolled him to his side, letting him hack our water before they dived back in. Something soft and dry wrapped around him and lifted him off the sand and into a beach chair.

When his breathing steadied, he remembered the children and jolted. "Becca–"

"Is fine." Someone replied and he realized there was a wall of five people or so blocking the view of the ocean. He frowned because what was going on? Until a small cough and noise shifted beside him and he turned. Becca, wrapped in a damp towel, cleared her throat while Angie patted her back.

"Hey," he greeted. "Are you alright?"

She nodded as Angie spoke. "Papa was worried something like this would happen."

Garfield furrowed his brows. "What…?"

It was then when Garfield turned did he notice the guns in each of the group member's hands. He swallowed, fear rising. What kind of person or group or  _whatever_ brought guns to an amusement park? An amusement park in  _Jump City_ of all places?

"Who  _are_ you people?" He murmured.

"None of your concern." One of the women retorted, cold and fast.

He swallowed, glancing at the pistol. Was he in danger just being near them? Would they shoot him? Who  _were_ they?

The wall of people stepped in sync as a drenched Wilson stepped into the cabana. Garfield bit his lip, tense, but the man strode past him to check on his daughters.

"We should call the poli–"

"No." Wilson's tone brooked no argument.

He weakly argued against the oppressive atmosphere. "But someone could–"

"I said  _no."_

Garfield wilted, chancing a glance at the guards and then the dejected children. Seeing their hurt expressions, like they were used to this kind of thing, gave him strength to speak. "Your daughter nearly–"

Wilson stared him down and he willed himself to continue.

"Your daughter was  _attacked."_ He summoned more bravery as the bigger picture came into view. "Someone else could get hurt if the police don't know. Their job is to  _protect_ people. If none of you won't call, then," he stood. "I will."

"No you won't." Wilson stepped close and suddenly the height difference made him shrink further. Something in the man's tone wasn't right.

"I…" he stammered, catching sight of the man's hand by his thigh and patting a pistol. "Um…"

One of the guards spoke up. "Mr. Wilson, a body on the beach won't be difficult to hide. Just toss him into the ocean and no one will know."

Garfield tensed and, judging by the children's defeated faces, realized this wasn't uncommon. He retreated a step but there was nowhere to run and he only succeeded in tumbling back into the chair. The man loomed over him, palms grasping the arm rest and limbs caging him into place.

Would they kill him? Weakly, he leaned away. "I-I have a boyfriend w-who'll wonder where I went. If you k-kill me, he'll contact the police and you'll be caught for m-murder."

Wilson sneered and was about to speak when Becca interrupted. "Please don't hurt him, Papa. He's really nice."

Garfield stiffened as the sneer melted into a contemplating frown and he mused. "You like him, Rebecca?"

Suddenly feeling like his life was in the hands of a child, he could only watch as the girl nodded. "He taught me an' Angie how to surf and he saved me from the bad man."

"True…" Wilson slowly examined his face. "I knew you were cute but if my daughters like you then I suppose I'll let you live…" He exhaled until the man continued. "But I can't allow you to call the police. You are a risk I can't allow to run free."

Garfield swallowed. "W-what are you saying?"

"Your freedom is in my hands."

His breath hitched. "What do you–"

"Now, either you come quietly, or…" Wilson unholstered the gun and brought the tip beneath a green chin. "I'll fire a bullet into your leg so you can't run. No one will hear the blast over the sound of the rides."

He couldn't breathe. Would the dude really shoot him? And if he  _seriously_ meant what he  _thought_ he meant, then… "W-what if I promised not to call the police?"

Wilson hummed. "Too late for that." The man straightened. "Hunt, get the car. Greensworth, get me some rope. Johnson and Williams, watch him. Ensure he doesn't escape. Anderson, I expect you to find out who attacked my daughter today."

Garfield gasped as the guards swept into motion. From men and women departing the cabana to two men approaching him, his heart hammered. "Y-you can't–this is  _kidnapping."_

"I do what I damn well please." Wilson rebuked. "And your little boyfriend can search all he likes but he won't find you."

He shrank in the chair, wondering how the entire day went from bad to worse. Too soon he was grabbed by the arm and dragged out of the cabana, children following, and forced along the boardwalk until they reached the concession stands and snuck behind the buildings and rides before arriving at the parking lot where a sleek car waited.

The guards shoved him into the trunk and one of the men pinned his wriggling form while two women tied his wrists and ankles, then gagged his mouth with rope. They shut the trunk lid and darkness swarmed and he stilled, heart racing and mind whirling with disbelief.

It seemed like hours had passed and he was relieved he hadn't drank water in forever or else his bladder would be killing him. When the trunk lid opened, he was quickly hauled out into blinding light that slowly faded into a garage.

~oOo~


	6. Delivery Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delivering pizza wasn't his favorite job, and neither was working at a drive in fast food place, but he needed money to pay rent. When a hot guy becomes a regular pizza customer, he finds the job much more enjoyable...until the hottie's rival hunts him down. Unfinished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woulda been BBRob, with one-sided BBGrant/Slade. Just didn't get far enough. My buddy FamiliarFan helped out with some of the ideas for this story.

The radio blasted music as the green young man flicked the turn signal and cruised around a corner. To his right and in the passenger seat sat several boxes of pizzas, kept heated by the seat warmers. He hummed with the music and glanced at the GPS screen on the car, ensuring he was on the right path.

Within minutes of driving, Beast Boy arrived in the wealthier side of Jump City. Large houses with gardens and hedges trimmed into figures lined the road. The GPS indicated the location was further in so he kept his foot on the gas and sang with the songs until the houses turned into mansions with elaborate gates and long driveways.

It wasn't until he had entered the outskirts of the district did he finally find the address and approached.  _Dude_. The mansion in front required him to push a button and ask to be let through the gates.

After lowering the volume and rolling down the window, he reached out an arm and clicked the button. Static crackled as someone spoke. "Who is it?"

"Uh...pizza delivery?" He glanced at the boxes as if to confirm they were still there.

"You may enter."

The gates slowly parted. Shrugging, he drove forwards and followed a winding path through a garden until he arrived in front of stairs. He set the car in park and stepped out. After he grabbed the pizza and walked up the steps, he rang the the doorbell.

Moments passed before an elderly man in a suit opened the door. Beast Boy blinked and adjusted his hold on the food. "Um...it's 69 dollars and 38 cents for six large cheese pizzas."

The elder nodded and pulled out his wallet. While he counted, Beast Boy peered around him to peek into the mansion. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling and it was big enough that he half wondered what it'd be like to climb atop it and swing around like a swing set. Paintings decorated beige walls but a engraved molding split the wall from beige to red. Tiled floors, glossy and apparently waxed looked perfect for sliding around in socks.

All in all, just from what he could see of the hallway, it was a  _massive_  place to live in. The dude or dudette who lived here was probably holding a large party. A large crazy party with pizza.  _Lucky_.

He sighed. What was it like to have so much money and not worry about rent? Probably as wonderful as eating as much pure cocoa chocolate as he wanted.

"Here is 70 dollars." The elder broke his daydreaming, handing the money. "Keep the change."

He blinked and they swapped. He double-checked the cash before nodding.  _Cheapskate_. Wouldn't even give him a proper tip.

The door clicked shut. Shrugging, (because what could he do?) he turned around and would've walked down the steps had the door not flung open and someone shouted.  _"Wait!"_

Beast Boy whirled. "Huh?" And his jaw dropped.

A handsome young man with black hair gelled into spikes and shades covering his eyes had an arm outstretched. Beast Boy darted his gaze over the stranger. A deep red suit jacket covered white arms. A white button down shirt was tucked into black pants that stopped above black dress shoes.

"My butler didn't tip you." The dude explained and stuffed a hand into his jacket pocket. "Here's 10 bucks."

Beast Boy stared as the attractive man approached and stuffed the bill into his hand. "Uh… thanks?"

The stranger paused. "You look familiar."

Beast Boy took a moment to study the face. Sharp cheekbones. Firm but confident face. Hidden eyes. Spikey black hair. He tilted his head. "Can't say the same. I don't know any rich people."

The dude snorted. "What's your name?"

He tapped the name-tag. "Garfield but I prefer Beast Boy."

"You sure we've never met?" The man pressed. "Where did you go to High School?"

"Jump High." He answered and stuffed the money into the back of his jeans pocket. "Poor town, I know." He turned. "It was nice meeting you."

The stranger bid him farewell and he jogged down the steps. Curious despite himself, he glanced at the mansion's doors as he opened the driver's side of the car. The man stood in the doorway, watching him, and he offered a wave before hopping inside and driving away.

His day continued with more pizza deliveries until his shift ended and he returned the car to the restaurant's parking lot. Afterwards, he walked to his apartment and wanted to collapse onto his bed (driving was  _exhausting_ ) but he had to change clothes and prepare for his other job.

So he dragged tired limbs to the shower and cleaned up before dressing in his other job's uniform. Checking the time and grabbing a backpack, he hustled out of the building and rushed to the fast food place.

Luckily, he arrived on time and hustled to the employee's only room to dump his backpack onto the floor and pull out roller skates. Though his balance in the things wasn't stellar, he could still move in them and deliver the food to the cars waiting outside. Once they were fastened to his feet, he started his shift.

"Garfield," one of his co-workers called. "Order 16 is ready."

"Thanks, Stella."

He wheeled to the island separating the kitchen and the front counter and grasped the waiting tray of food. In moments, he moved from behind the counter and skated out of the building and into the night. Though there were lamp posts to provide light, it was still difficult to see. Hoping he wouldn't trip over a stray rock and fall, he wheeled to the designated food stand where a car sat with its blinding headlights on.

With the lights shining in his eyes, it took him a moment to realize it was a limo of all things. What was a rich person doing at a  _fast food_  place? It didn't matter much so he shrugged and wheeled to the driver's side.

A tinted window rolled down to reveal a grumpy looking driver in a suit. Despite the clear aggression, he offered a courteous smile. "One medium strawberry milkshake and a medium salad, right?"

The man nodded.

"Your total comes to seven dollars and 73 cents. Cash or credit?"

"Neither." The man grunted and shifted.

Beast Boy blinked when the back door swung open and a blond and muscular man stepped out. He furrowed his brows, ready to ask what was going on, but a rigid face stared him down right before a broad hand grasped his bicep and hauled him into the car. He yelped, dropping the food, and scrambled to get out but the stranger slid inside and shut the door.

"Hey, whoa,  _wait–"_  He protested as the car backed up and the creep grabbed his arm. "Wait, what–"

"Stay still." A stone cold monotone made him pause.

"What do you want from me?"

He bit his lip when blue eyes met green and the stranger continued. "You're the bait."

~oOo~

Some ideas for this fic were brainstormed by my friend FamiliarFan over on Archive of Our Own which were–

Robin's an undercover cop or something who first met BB at a high end restaurant. BB works part time there, prolly on call when they are short-staffed, and happened to have been Robin's waiter. He managed to get the job through his high school friend Starfire years ago.

BB was a sweetheart and a goober despite the formal atmosphere and Robin can't help but notice how kind BB is with the other customers as well. (Helpin' old folks or kids cut their food, maybe standing up for an exhausted mother breast feeding her baby, and just bein; good guy BB) Despite how klutzy BB is, Robin finds him adorable.

So Robin's all, "Shoot...I like this guy."

And Robin, curious despite himself, discovers that BB works other places too (as a delivery driver and a waiter/bus boy at a drive in food chain) So, he becomes stubbornly determined to learn more because "he's  _too_ perfect. There has to be a flaw!" But other than a few bad days or moments here and there, BB's just a genuinely good guy.

And Robin realized. "Fuq, I really like him."

 _Slade,_  meanwhile, is some sort of black market crime boss that Robin has been working to take down. Slade/Grant didn't notice Robin's infatuation with BB at all until BB is Grant's waiter a good few months later at the same restaurant.

At first Grant thinks BB would make for a hot one night stand, but when he figures out that his rival, Robin, has eyes on the cutie, he decides to kidnap da BB as bait for Robin...AND as a bonus toy to play with and wear as arm candy. It'd have the double whammy of ticking off Robin and forcing him to advance their rivalry to the next step, whatever that may be.

Also, the 10 bucks was actually a 100 dollar bill that BB didn't notice was 100 until later

~oOo~


	7. Terrible Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a poor hero sucked. Unfinished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one switches between note-format and fleshed-out format. Woulda been a slow burn for one-sided BBSlade.
> 
> I got pretty far before running outta steam. Thanks for reading!

Not Love at First Sight / Poverty Gar

Grant has kiddos who get kidnapped and dragged to the sketchy side of town where Gar lives. Gar works overtime at a pet store and is only paid minimum wage, barely enough to afford a decrepit apartment and food due to careful rationing. Gar stumbles across the girls and rescues them, taking them to his apartment to calm them and then call the police. The police show up and drags him to the station for questioning and in walks billionaire Grant Wilson, adoptive father to the girls and owner of the world's leading technology company.

BB has a dinky old phone that Grant's company made

Grant takes one look at the scrappy and unkempt young man and decides Gar is just another dumb fool who couldn't make it in the world. He was poor for a  _reason_  and that was that.

Grant has every intention to separate his daughters from the filthy idiot when he notices how his children refuse to leave. Despite the stranger's encouragements, the girls stubbornly cling to stained and tattered jeans, chanting refusals against leaving the brat.

Well aware that though the children rarely disobeyed him, when they  _did_  they were a combined force rivaling his own determination. To avoid causing a scene, Grant relents and ushers the confused idiot into his limo with the lie of returning the favor. All he planned to do was drop off the leech into one of the nearby slums. The correct slum didn't matter, it was all the same to Grant.

But when he directs the driver to stop a ways away from the police station and the rat hastily reaches for the the door, the children catch on and launch themself atop the piece of filth. Grant clenches his jaw, tired of their antics, and demands they let the "penniless man leave"

Gar stares at the unwarranted antagonism but doesn't retaliate. Rich people were all the same – snobby and mean. Fighting back would just prove them right in their minds. So he settled for gently trying to pry the rigid children off his lap. It doesn't work. They're hold is as unrelenting as steel and he sighs, softly asking them to let go so he could go home.

"Yes," Wilson agrees. "let the filthy leech return to its nest."

Angelina snaps. "Don't be so mean, Papa! Mister Gar is the nicest person we've ever met!"

Gar's flattered until he hears Wilson mutter. "A scam, I'm sure." Then louder. "Nonetheless, he must leave."

Rebecca pitches in. "He's nicer than  _you,_  Papa! He gave us blankies when we were cold and he gave us food an' he even stayed when we were scared!"

Angelina added. "For my birthday present, I know  _exactly_ what I want!" She looks at Gar with shining eyes. "I want Mister Gar to stay with us!"

Gar laughs nervously as he feels Wilson begin to radiate anger. "No can do, kiddo. Your Papa's right, I've gotta go."

The betrayal scrawled on her features was nearly enough to make him backtrack but he couldn't make false promises.

Wilson sliced through the silence. "He doesn't want to stay, Angelina. Do you really want someone who doesn't want  _you?"_

Gar balked. "That's not what I–"

 _"Quiet,_  trash." Wilson snapped back and Gar complied. "Well, Angelina?"

Tears pricked the child's eyes and Gar softened, instinctively reaching to hug her before pulling away. No need to anger the bear of a father any further and risk getting hurt.

While Angie's expression broke, Becca's face hardened. "If Mister Gar's leaving, then  _I'm_ leaving too."

The wide eyes and lowered jaw on Wilson's features was almost enough to make Gar laugh. Instead, the implications of that statement flooded his mind and he hastened to change her mind.

"Whoa, wait a minute, kiddo–"

"I'll stay with Mister Gar because at least  _he_ cares about me!" Becca pushed and Gar swallowed. "He asked if we were okay and he said 'it's okay' and he hugged me when I asked and you  _never_ hug me, Papa!"

Gar sweated as Wilson morphed from not composed to thunderous in three seconds. "We will not have this conversation in front of someone like  _him."_

Caught in a war, he struggled to interrupt. "Wait, just–"

"He actually  _cares_ about me, Papa!"

"This is not the time, Rebec–"

 _"Wait!"_  Garfield exploded and every gaze turned to him, one furious and the other two frightened so he softened. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble. Becca, Angie," he studied the girls. "I'm sure your father cares very much about you two but he doesn't like me so I have to go."

 _"No!"_  Becca wailed and grabbed his wrist tight enough to decrease circulation. "Don't go!"

Wilson finally snapped and ripped the children away from him. His eyes widened as he recoiled, crashing back into the seat. Suddenly feeling very,  _very_  much in danger, he scrambled for the door and rushed out. He didn't stop running until he no longer felt the scorching glare.

 _Damnit_. That's what he gets for playing hero.  _Poor kids, having a father like that_ … He shook his head. Not his problem.

Days pass, turning to a handful of weeks as Gar resumes his routine. It isn't until he's on his way home from work when he spots an sleek car, awfully out of place in the slums, and alarm bells ring.

Deciding not to get involved in either what had to be a theft of a car from a careless rich person, or what could be a rich person looking for a prostitute, he veers away from the car. After what happened last time he played hero, he was nearly socked in the face and he couldn't afford to take any days off work to nurse any wounds.

He avoids the car, and in turn the gang members staring hungrily at it from the shadows, and hurries to his apartment. No sense getting involved in a bloodbath. The gang who controlled the area of the slum he lived in could be ruthless when they wanted to be. Since he stayed out of their way and paid his landlady (one of their lackeys) routinely on time, they let him be.

It's one week later when he's on his way home from work does he get in their way. One of Fowler's grunts have kidnapped the girls and Gar hears a yell followed by a young child's scream right before getting bulldozed by a sprinting bundle of panicked energy. Dazedly, he checks what flattened him and jolts into alertness.

Becca, scared senseless but recognizing him all the same, grabs his wrist and drags him into danger. She babbles desperation and he swallows hard as he realizes she's brought him to a hurt Angie…and angry thugs with knives and guns.

The gang members demand he hand over the "rich brat" and they won't kill him. He tries to raise his hands in a surrendering gesture but Becca won't let go.

"H-Hey wait a second…" he tries to reason. "I don't want any trouble. But these are just kids."

A thug approaches, weapon ready and he stiffens, staying in place as Becca hides behind him.

The thug scans him before lowering the gun and scowling. "Garfield, right?"

He fidgets under the stare. "Y-yes?"

The man, presumably the leader, looks pensive. "One of Emily's?"

"One of her tenants, yeah."

"And the only green freak there is." The man agrees. "Look, I'd rather save my bullets and you've been good stream of money. I'll let you off with a warning if you hand over the kid."

Mind whirling, he debated his options before sighing. "You're holding them for ransom, or…?"

The man snorts. "You're not joining in, brat. Now get lost."

"No, wait." He tries, a half-hearted plan forming in his mind. "They're just kids and they trust me. Let me take care of them and they won't be any trouble." He sucked in air. "You'll get your money and they'll get to go home."

Ignoring the tears soaking his pant leg, he focused on the contemplating expression as he tried another offering. "Hey, even if I get caught by the police, I don't have anything on you guys. I can't spill a secret if I don't know what that secret  _is."_

"Fair…" The man mused. "But why should I trust you?"

"I…" he trailed and glanced at Angie clutching her bicep and Becca clinging to his side and tried. "I have a soft spot for kids?"

The thug scoffed. "Ah, you're one of  _those_ freaks. A guy from the slums but still cares too much."

He shrugged. "True, but the offer stands. I'll keep them in line and quiet if it means they won't get hurt."

The leader waved a hand. "You're expendable so I'll let you. Try anything and I'll shoot you through the skull."

"Deal." His heart hammered and the leader stepped back to let him walk to Angie.

The gang encircled them and he hefted Angie into his arms. She was about the same weight as one of the medium to big dogs he had to groom and tote around during his work at the pet store, so carrying her wasn't too much of a problem. And the cut itself wasn't deep but there was still a chance of infection. Who knew what was coated on the knives of the thugs.

He guided Becca and carried Angie, murmuring requests for them to stay quiet, and followed the thugs to a car. They crammed inside, the girls on his lap as he sat on the floor in front of their legs, and soon arrived at the warehouse district.

There, he kept the children company as the threat was made over phone and the sun vanished. Only the light of lampposts allowed him to see the girls and soon a sleek car appeared. He stayed back as the thug leader waited for the driver to step out.

And out Wilson stepped. Garfield swallowed as Wilson shot him an accusing glance before refocusing on the leader.

They exchanged money and Garfield took his cue to approach. The leader stepped back, counting the cash, while he tried to pry the children from his legs. They wouldn't budge.

"Angie, Becca…" he muttered, starting to feel nervous the longer they clung.

The thugs used the distraction to bail and he was left alone with the wealthy man….and soon surrounded by police.

He sighed. "Great…"

Police officers stepped out and aimed pistols at him and he tried to raise his hands but the girls grabbed his wrists and held his legs like monkeys and he couldn't move.

So Wilson moved instead. "Why did you kidnap my daughters?"

He knew the man wouldn't believe him, but opted for honesty anyway. "I didn't. I–"

"Liar." Wilson snarled and despite the officers attempts to stop the man from approaching, Wilson stalked to him and punched him straight in the gut.

Being a hero  _so_ sucked.

He doubled-over, gasping and biting on swears and one the girls scrambled on top of his back, bodily protecting him through piggy-back while the other tried to kick her father.

"Stay away from him!" Angie barked. "He  _protected_  us!"

Becca bared her teeth by his ear. "He  _cares_ about us! He made sure none of the bad guys hurt us!"

Wilson darkened his glare but they were at a standstill. Garfield caught his breath and struggled to straighten but the weight on his back slid lower and her hold pulled against his neck, stifling oxygen.

"Becca, Angie, please let go." He murmured.

They hesitated and Wilson took the chance. He ripped Angie away and grabbed Becca by an arm and hauled her off him. Garfield stumbled before a green wrist was grabbed and pinned behind his back.

He whined in pain, wriggling until Wilson declared. "Officers, I will deal with this one  _personally."_

One of the women stepped forwards. "But sir, procedure–"

"If you wish to continue receiving my generous donations, then you will forget this man was involved and will instead search for the thugs who have my  _money_."

Quelled by the anger and threat of losing access to precious funds, the officers nodded.

Garfield was dragged into the car, girls following like desperate puppies.

Wilson and the girls bickered as he sat quietly, idly wondering if he was being kidnapped, before…

~oOo~


	8. Summaries Galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of unrelated summaries and notes for ideas I never wrote.

**1) Working Vacation  
** _In need of a vacation but lacking funds, Garfield consults the internet. He finds sites that request "in-home volunteers" where the worker, in exchange for living with a host for free, does housework. One promising choice sparks his curiosity and he takes a chance. One he never should've taken. BBSlade_

 **2) Flights of Fancy  
** Desperate for a night out after a exhausting week of work, Garfield calls up an old friend. He gains access to a upscale nightclub thanks to Cyborg, his best friend since high school.

 **3) Volunteering turns Disastrous  
** Garfield volunteers in a homeless shelter cafeteria when thugs from the local gang walks in, searching for potential grunts. They choose him and he's forced into the gang…as a sex slave.

 **4) Camera-Ready  
** When Garfield scores the chance to meet the famous celebrity, Richard Grayson, at a book signing, he hustles to the scene with a camera ready. Robin signs the book that inspired the movie he played in, because the author couldn't attend.

 **5) Work and Play  
** _Garfield works at a day camp during summer to junior year of college. While there, he meets a handsome coworker and an asshole parent. (who winds up trying to woo him with money)_

 **6) Rise and Fall  
** _During summer away from college, Garfield scores a pet sitting job, (and in turn a house to live in, rent free) in Jump City. Between caring for the upkeep of the house and playing with the homeowners young puppies, he takes every chance to explore the bustling metropolis. From walks to puppy parks to dining at classy restaurants, he loves the sights and sounds. But when his time is up and the owners don't show, he snags a part time job at a nearby ice cream shop in hopes to slow the dwindling funds. Juggling three untrained puppies, customers, and caring for a house that isn't his own, he struggles to stay afloat amongst his fears. It's not until a handsome stranger knocks on his door with a massive guard dog does his situation fully sink._

(maybe a tibetan mastiff – a MASSIVE DOG of 33")

 **7) Transition  
** _Gar works in the slums as a fast food cashier during the week, and restaurant waiter during weekends. He barely gets by, working overtime and always struggling to make ends meet. Only when his neighborhood's local gang breaks into a fight with a rival group is he forced out of poverty and into the hands of a wealthy madman._

 **8) Reluctant Prostitute  
** _Garfield didn't know how his life crumbled within a month. From his guardians, Steve and Rita Dayton vanishing just before summer, to being plunged into debt because of his birth father's apparent gambling habits. According to Nicholas Galtry, brother to his birth father (or so the man claimed), Garfield had to repay the debt or die. With a gun to his head, he agreed. Now, he worked as a reluctant prostitute at a ritzy gentleman's club where he meets a clearly wealthy but absolutely snobbish client, Grant Wilson. He doesn't want to pleasure the jerk, but if Galtry ordered, then he had to obey. Who knows, maybe winning the man's heart would be the ticket out of hell and back to the safety of college._

 **9) Beats Boi  
** Garfield may have been cursed with green skin at a young age, but he was blessed with the ability to sing a wide range of styles. He favored slingin' rhymes and spittin' truths, especially in front of an audience with a sense of humor. Singing goes well as a side hobby...until a handsome fan introduces themself as Richard Grayson, music scout for Wilson Industries. Garfield finds himself smitten with the stranger and agrees to audition for the record label, if only to have an solid excuse to continue chatting with the cool dude. Only when he meets the Dick's creepy boss, Grant Wilson, does he have second thoughts.

 **10) Curses and Cures  
** Garfield is the second person in Jump Kingdom who was diseased with Sakutia and cured by a rare flower that gave him green skin as a result. The first was the princess of the kingdom. But, when her life is threatened by an infamous thief interested in the jewelry adorned on her body, she is hidden away while Garfield (the only other person with green skin and pointy ears) is dragged to the castle to take her place in disguise. There, a handsome knight named Robin guards him but the thief is famous for a reason. Slade will take what he wants, even if it means hauling a small twenty-year old man over a shoulder and scaling down the tower, ignoring the kicking and muffled screams all the while.

~oOo~

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of these stories will be unfinished cause I either lost steam or lost ideas. Some might even be outlined ideas rather than fleshed out ones.
> 
> I'm pairing BB/Slade (one-sided) cause I'm fond of one-sided and dark foe-yay and Slade is such a great villain and BB such a playful character. It's fun to toss happy characters into miserable situations.
> 
> Fanfiction: A Metaphorical Punching Bag Because Punching Real People is Bad


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